Enemy

She walks down the worn trail, leaves crunching under her feet.

Clouds cover the sky, casting an eerie gloom over everything. The air feels thick around her, a wall seeming to choke her when the wind doesn’t blow softly through the semi-bare branches. A few of the remaining leaves fall to the ground–slowly, gracefully.

It perfectly reflects the storm brewing inside her.

It isn’t everyday that someone finds out a truth that shakes her to the inner core. A truth that causes her to doubt everything that she believes in. A truth that plants seeds of doubt, insecurity, fear, and worry.

As she continues walking, pedestrians flee past her, no doubt wanting nothing  but to reach the entrance of the park and enter a nearby building or car to escape the impending storm.

But this doesn’t matter to her. Rain poses less of a threat than the problem ruining her life and swallowing her thoughts and emotions.

She was supposed to get in. She fulfilled all the requirements, she sent in all the papers, she even extended her portfolio to include other pieces.

That letter of rejection wasn’t supposed to be sitting on the kitchen table in her house right now.

But it was. It sat there for the past week, reminding her every time she ate and every time she passed by that she wasn’t good enough. She never was, and she never will be. If the best art school in the country didn’t accept her, then who would? How is she supposed to continue down this path if she isn’t even considered one of the best?

How is she supposed to get through this?

At one point, she thought she was the best. And now, in her heart, she still believes she is. But her mind keeps replaying a picture of herself opening the letter, a smile on her face before she reads the first few words.

It stays there, that image continuously playing. Everytime her heart claims that she is one of the best–when she lays in bed at night, when she walks to school, when she hangs out with friends–her mind then adds its opinion, showing her the image that says she isn’t good enough.

Nothing like a thought from her brain to shatter her heart.

Yet her heart keeps telling her that it’s okay. She’ll keep on drawing, she’ll apply for and attend another college, she’ll recover from this, she’ll show that she’s strong and determined.

But her mind kicks in again, showing her the image.

She is her own enemy.

It’s so difficult to be her own enemy. She can’t expect to have faith in herself when she’s also the one dragging her down into a depression over the fact that she isn’t good enough. Into paranoia that she can’t seem to decide if she should be the good guy or the bad guy. Into fear that her life is over and ruined. Into worry that it will never be the same again.

She is her own enemy. And as far as she can tell, there’s no remedy.

So she continues down the path, the first few drops of rain on her shoulders landing. And as she walks, the rain continues to fall incessantly.

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